Mental Flotsam, Mental Jetsam

Because the only thing that beats going crazy is going crazy with somebody else

Sunday, June 19, 2005

Write What You Know

Write what you know. Possibly the single most offered nugget of writing advice given from one person to another. Write what you know. Not only because it is marginally easier than writing about that which you know nothing, but also so that you can claim some smidgen of authority on the subject. Write what you know.

What kind of nightmares did Stephen King have to have as a child to concoct the terrors he’s created? I’m a big King fan. Needful Things and It are at the top of the list. The same question applies to Bram Stoker, Mary Shelley, H.G. Wells… They created monsters that the world had scarcely heard of before. They trapped in pages creatures, fiends and madmen that latter writers have been tapping for over a century.

And I’m with them. The latter writers, that is. Ridley Scott and H.R. Giger delivered slimy, grinning death on two legs to do battle with Sigourney Weaver, and it’s been turned into a booming franchise. Despite the fact that it’s grotesque, slimy and frightening as hell, people can’t get enough of it. Write what you know.

This website is named after a vampire I created almost 8 years ago. I decided to turn it into a comic book that I’d try my damnedest to see become a comic book. Now, eighteen months, a dozen plot lines and a considerable amount of money later; I’ve got twelve finished pages that have been rejected from some of the finest comic publishers in the country. People who have read it have called it everything from ‘weird’ to ‘brilliant’, with the publishers acknowledging that a great deal of work went into it, if nothing else. And now I’ve begun work on a television pilot…

I keep coming back to it; “Write what you know.” What the hell’s so special about vampires? Why are they so fascinating? Why have I spent so much time writing about them? It’s certainly not the only genre I’ve written on, but I can’t seem to help coming back to it. The other things I’ve written with any kind of plot (almost entirely plays) have been very silly. Comical, ridiculous concepts that you’d have a hard time taking seriously. Also very likely the point.

I accepted some time ago that I have a stronger knack for comedy than dramatic material. But in spite of it… I wouldn’t call it original. How could I? Everything I’ve written, every idea I’ve had has been the processed, digested product of every unique notion I’ve seen elsewhere.

Where did the genuine original ideas come from? How did H.G. Wells dream up the Invisible Man? Or Shelley, her Frankenstein’s Creature? I’d very much like to know. Maybe I’d have a better understanding of what I’m trying to accomplish. I admit that I don’t understand entirely why I keep writing it. Only that it’s what I’m best suited for, in writing at least: The ridiculous and the monstrous.

Write what you know.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home